You Can Still Be Free
by Ilyusha
Summary: Erestor and Olórin 'friendship'  Prequel of sorts to Istari Love  WARNING: some vague mention of torture, nothing graphic though.  Written a few years ago and only just now being posted here... procrastinate much?


Disclaimer: As per usual, the good things in life are not mine to have, but belong to someone else... in this case, the great Mr Tolkien. I just borrow them every now and then :) And in this case, not only do they belong do Mr Tolkien, this particular incarnation belongs to 3Jane and I am eternally grateful to her for letting me take them out and play with them for a while. I promise to put them back exactly as I found them... well, maybe not exactly ;) Kind of a song fic, but not quite, but it's a nice piece anyway... Thanks to 3Jane and Savage Garden for the inspiration!  
Authors Note: Be gentle, be kind and please give feedback... Flames welcome though they may dishearten... Burns heal after all...  
Also up at http://www.shit-in-my-head.andreaundpeter.de/files/StillFree.php where you can also find Istari Love!

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Cool breeze and autumn leaves  
Slow motion daylight_

He'd lost all track of time... How long had he been down here? Would he see the world again? Would he live to see Arien rise in the sky once more? Would he feel the wind gently tugging at his hair, would he hear it whistling through the trees?  
Would that he could see daylight, just one more time...

_A lone pair of watchful eyes  
Oversee the living  
Feel the presence all around_

He could feel it; there was something else here with him. He couldn't put a name to it, but he could feel it. A presence, lurking just in the shadows, watching him, watching all of them, well, all of them that were left. It wasn't an evil presence, that much he could tell. But what exactly it was, he did not know, could not begin to even fathom. All he knew was that this presence was somehow comforting.

_A tortured soul  
A wound unhealing_

That's what he was. Sauron knew he was losing the fight. Elves and Men were winning the Battle of the Last Alliance. Sauron had ordered his minions to capture as many elves as they could. He wanted to know what they knew, wanted to know how to break through the barriers they were putting up. Wanted to know how they were winning, and how he was being defeated. His orcs and goblins had snuck into an Elven camp late one night. Little had been left, save a few burnt remnants of the battle tents that once stood there, and the rusting metal of swords. And now, here he was. Deep in the fortress at Dol Guldur, captured along with the rest of his regiment. Erestor of Gondolin, right hand elf to the high King, Gil-galad, was a prisoner. He and his generals had stood little chance. The orcs had taken them by surprise and slaughtered the elves on watch, quickly subduing the sleeping elves and brutally bringing them here. To this dank dark pit, this festering hole, in the very bowels of the earth, where fire ate through, on it's way to the surface. The smell was foul; the creatures evil, but worse, worse of all was what was happening to them. Torture. Pure and simple. Sauron wanted to break them, wanted information. He needed to know how to beat both the Elves and the Men. He needed to know how to win. Erestor wiped the blood out of his eyes with his good hand, and straightened his legs as best he could in the cramped cell. He ached all over, strips of flesh torn out of his legs to try and make him talk. His feet, beaten and burned, his arm broken. But still he didn't break. None of them did. They knew what was at stake if something was said. Better to die and be welcomed by Mandos himself.

_No regrets or promises  
The past is gone_

How they did not know, but as more of them died, more of them lived. Sauron was not happy. He was not getting any results, so drawing on some of the darkest magic Melkor had taught him, he found a way to imprison souls. These elves would not get to see Mandos; they would not find peace. He would keep them here, on this Middle Earth, as punishment for their resilience. Sauron had underestimated the strength of the elves his forces had captured. They were dying without saying anything. Ending their immortal lives in the most terrible ways and still not breaking. So he did what only he knew how to do. He found a way to keep their souls tied to their abused bodies, to keep them imprisoned for everlasting tortures.

_But you can still be free  
If time will set you free_

Olórin watched as the last, lone elf stretched in the darkness. He had watched for too long now. He had heard their cries and travelled to see what was happening. He had not expected to find what he did, Sauron abusing the Firstborn. He had flown down from Mt. Taniquetil and watched them die. No longer could he stand this. He had to do something. Sauron could not be allowed to finish what he had started. This last elf had put up a huge struggle, even now, his laboured breathing echoed around the walls, the blood from his many wounds spread on the floor around him. The smell of the poison and the burnt flesh was something Olórin thought he was glad not to be able to smell it. He had seen the reactions of the last elves to go, the disgust on their faces as they smelt their burnt flesh and singed hair. The pain as they moved their damaged limbs and the struggle they had just to breath and stay alive. This elf had stood out. Olórin didn't know how he had survived so far, but even he, as one of the lesser Maiar, could tell this elf would not last much longer. Olórin decided he could stand for it no more. He had to do something... anything. The feä of this elf would not be doomed to wander the halls of Dol Guldur for eternity. He didn't know how Sauron had managed to stop their feä from travelling to Mandos' Halls, but he had seen as one by one the elves gave up and faded, how their souls were caught here, trapped within the walls of Sauron's stronghold. This elf was important, he had seen this. The way the other elves had talked to him and helped him when he was thrown back in the cell after the prolonged torture sessions. The way the other elves had drawn strength from him. And he had given it, right up until the last elf. Now he was alone. Olórin vowed not to let this elf suffer the same fate. He promised not to let this elf die. The elf would go free.

_Time now to spread your wings  
To take to flight  
The life endeavour  
Aim for the burning sun  
You're trapped inside  
But you can still be free_

The dark-haired elf looked up, staring wildly around the cell. It was here again. That presence... But this time it seemed different. Before he had just felt the presence on the edge of his conscious. But now, now it invaded him, warming his chilled bones and soothing away his aches and pains. He could almost feel himself soaring above ground, flying across the plains of Doriath, above the Blue Mountains and down towards his beloved Gondolin.

_Keep moving way up high  
You see the light  
It shines forever_

He soared way up high again and Erestor swore he could see the Two Trees alive and alight. The simple sight gave him hope and strength. He had always loved the trees. Now they gave him something to live for. A promise was made somewhere in the darkness of that cell that he would see the Two Trees again. As Erestor slipped into a peaceful reverie, a last thought occurred to him. Who had made the promise?

_Sail through the crimson skies  
The purest light  
The light that sets you free_

He awoke from his reverie stronger and more hopeful than he had felt for a long time. He would fight this. He could survive. He had passed through the tortures so far, and he had been shown the Trees. The light emanating from them had filled him with a new hope and the strength to fight. He had thought that all his strength was lost, drained by the tortures and the pleas of his men. His false promises that they would escape. Had he lied? Could they have escaped? He sank back against the wall, twisting awkwardly to avoid the pain from his broken ribs. Despair flooded through him. He had failed. He had failed them all. They were all dead, all gone and only he was left. What would happen now? Despite all that had happened, Erestor was still convinced that he would survive. His vision had shown him that life was still worth living. He knew it was a vision, either that or a hallucination. For many years now, he had only seen Gondolin in his dreams. But he had seen it, the sun rising, shining down and creating a vision of red and gold. He only had to wait. He would get out. He would be free again. He could almost feel the presence again; soothing him, promising him that he would be free...

_If time will set you free_

A sudden noise bought Erestor out of his troubled reverie. He had shifted restlessly in his sleep, and now his feet ached. He reached down to rub some life back into them, before recoiling in horror at the feel of them. For a split second, his tired mind wondered what had happened to them. Then it all fell into place. The raid, the capture, and the tortures. He gazed around the room again, trying to discern something in the darkness that prevailed. He had been sitting here alone for hours now. Not even the orcs had come to drag him for another torture. Another noise echoed in the distance. Finally he heard footsteps in the corridor outside. He tensed against the wall, ready to put up a fight. He knew this would be his last. He barely had enough strength left for anything else. Voices sounded. Melodic voices. //Elven voices// his fevered mind cried out hopefully. He held his breath as the door started to open.

"By the Valar... What happened here?" Wait a minute... he recognised that voice.  
"Quick, we need light" And that voice! These were people he knew, elves... his kin... his saviours.  
"Master Erestor!" An elf fell on his knees before Erestor, his dark hair swept back into a single braid. He had come straight from battle, that much Erestor's tired mind surmised. "How do you fare?" Erestor groaned and rolled his head, weakly trying to lift his good arm to fend off the voices.  
"Elrond... leave him be. Can you not see he has been through much? Let him be at peace. We need to get him and anyone else out of here before Isildur burns this abomination down."  
"Aye, you are right. Here Master Erestor." The elf named Elrond lifted at flask of water to Erestor's lips and let a few drops trickle down his throat. //Elrond... of course... Gil-galad's chief herald...// thought Erestor, his brain finally placing the name he recognised.  
"No one else..." he managed to say after swallowing the water.  
"What! Erestor, are you saying you are the last elf left alive?" Elrond clasped the elder elf's good hand in his and studied his face. Erestor's downcast eyes told him the answer. "Can you walk?" A shake of the head had Elrond grasping Erestor's hand more firmly as two more came to help him up.  
As they carried him out into the fresh air, Erestor could feel the presence once more. He knew it would be for the last time. He had survived. He was free.

_Sail through the wind and rain tonight  
You're free to fly tonight_

The horse they lifted him onto bore him down the hillside, towards the battlefield. A light rain began to fall, and Erestor lifted his face to the sky, letting the soft rain fall on his face, washing away the blood and tears. He had survived. He was free...

Now all he had to do was get through the rest of his immortal life in the sorry state his imprisonment had left him in.


End file.
